


forgotten too many names and that's including my own.

by faucer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with no happy ending, M/M, but RK900 will never give up on the love of his eternal life, connor slowly deteriorating, missing memories, prototypes don't actually last that much huh, unless you squint p hard and are a bit of a masochist then that's somewhat a happy ending for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26493994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faucer/pseuds/faucer
Summary: RK900 never understood the human custom of ‘marriage’; putting a ring on connor’s finger was not something he thought indispensable, they knew they belonged each other and didn’t deem necessary for the world to be aware of that.“come on, it’s time to go home”“yes, you’re right.” aware that he doesn’t recognize anything, not even the room, but still feels drawn towards the handsome man in front of him, still feels that they’re connected somehow, that he’s safe with him: connor smiles, tender, innocent, soft, without an outline in his visage of the evil that has been carving out his life these late years. and it’s as if, for that millisecond, he never forgot him in the first place. “let’s go home.” RK900 regrets not having proposed back then. it would have made for a wonderful memory.
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Rk1700
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	forgotten too many names and that's including my own.

**Author's Note:**

> i was like 'ahaha what if it's established relationship RK1700 but one of them doesn't remember the other ahaha noo you're so sexy don't forget your soulmate' and people on twitter started indulging me and @/puffisheri said 'oh but what if it's connor breaking down bc he's a prototype and not remembering RK900' and i was like oh shit oh noooo and i started crying

RK900 never understood the human custom of ‘marriage’; putting a ring on connor’s finger was not something he thought indispensable, they knew they belonged each other and didn’t deem necessary for the world to be aware of that. because, put simply, what they had was more than what a band could express: in his eyes connor was his soulmate, his everything, how could a piece of metal remind of that? and for RK900 it was impossible to find something that could complement connor’s beauty anyway. he always scoffed it as unimportant until eight began– forgetting. forgetting? could androids ever forget? to replenish thirium at optimal levels, to plan maintenance, to get the required amount of stasis— could they? no, they couldn’t. actually, androids weren’t capable of this function at all. which was both a curse and a blessing, depending on how fate decided with their lives. but RK900 soon was forced to acknowledge that fate had not chosen to be kind with them. (fate? _ah_ _– cyberlife._ ) as if reclaiming back the change of the price for being granted eternal happiness, slowly, his lover started to deteriorate. his lover. well, could he still call him that? no matter how much he wished to, some days he had to hold back from any form of affection, not even giving himself the privilege to use pet names, not even allowing himself to stare at him enamoured the mere seconds that lingered between a silent ‘i love you’ and the lie that was ‘we’re friends living together to split bills’. explaining to him that they were actually partners that many times had become too taxing on both of their psyches, he discovered. and therefore he settled for subtler ways, carefully stitching his phone number onto connor’s white button-down’s neck tag, tucking away holographic photos of them in the back pocket of connor’s suit pants, and more little loving precautions for when he could start to wander alone.

like today, when connor went to the DPD, sure as hell that he worked there still, that no, the receptionist must be mistaken, that no, this android with a white jacket (RK900, now a part-timer) was being unreasonable by asking him to take a day off, he had work to do! had cases to– to? to? cases? no, he.... he stopped, he— he? perhaps, yes, perhaps he’s not feeling that good, perhaps a day off is completely reasonable now that he thinks about it. maybe he could take a walk, do those things he often puts off for a later time, things– things? suddenly he doesn’t remember the things he likes to do, suddenly he doesn’t remember a lot of things. but suddenly RK900 is quick to hide his crying blue face into a tight hug. RK900, despite not knowing who he is, is always there for him. connor sometimes wonders why this person goes to such lengths for him, he never reciprocated the favour in any way and yet. and yet, like now, he was happy to accompany him to a bar, to grab a drink to calm his nerves, because, yes, he drinks, he’s a heavy drinker at that— what? thirium? no– no, ahaha, he’s a human! he’s talking about real fucking alcohol! oh that was a joke, certainly, yeah, he’s hinting a laugh now, this android is nice actually.

RK900 never had thought there would be a ‘hard’ way to recall how much connor loved to be praised; he learnt he was a bit of a narcissus the first weeks of his crush, seeing his face lights up and his nostrils flaring slightly at the tiniest flattery, and he made his utmost mission to worship eight out loud whenever the occasion presented itself. and there were many, many occasions, especially easy when RK900 adores even the minuscule feature the other possessed. now is no exception, him, sitting at a table, waiting for a hesitant RK900, skeptical on ordering a human beverage or not, chatting casually with someone just met – he’s always been a bit of a chatterbox too –, imperceptibly blushing the faintest cyan at the adulation spilling from a stranger’s lips. not that it mattered, he pondered, taking a seat not too far away, glass mechanically in hand, watching them. him too was a stranger to connor most of their days together.  
some nights, when he was truly desperate, he furtively stole moments of his past life by posing as an android just bumping into connor for the first time, talking to him with a confidence he never realized he had, flirting, adoring him, taking him home – his home, not theirs –, having sex, kissing him endlessly, leaving hickeys in his auto-repairing skin until a trace could be left, which was: never; and therefore his attempts where infinite. treating him dearly enough that he, helplessly, hopes it will be sufficient to let connor, **_his_ ** connor, remember how much they love each other. but the morning always came, never late, and relentlessly destroyed the few pieces of his heart left every single time, every single sunray. and those were the hours he hated himself the most, for tricking him, for betraying his trust, for betraying **_their love._ ** “come on, it’s time to go home” it’s the only phrase he manages to mutter, leaving the cup on the table and gesturing with his head to the exit.  
there’s a fraction of a second where it goes quiet, connor gazing at him, lost, and in him it germinates the dread that he’s been completely erased from his boyfriend’s files.  
a muffled indignant “hey–!” comes from the one splayed on the chair next to them but it’s interrupted by “yes, you’re right.” aware that he doesn’t recognize anything, not even the room, but still feels drawn towards the handsome man in front of him, still feels that they’re connected somehow, that he’s safe with him: connor smiles, tender, innocent, soft, without an outline in his visage of the evil that has been carving out his life these late years. and it’s as if, for that millisecond, he never forgot him in the first place. “let’s go home.” RK900 regrets not having proposed back then. it would have made for a wonderful memory.


End file.
